


Family

by Bryony (REBB)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REBB/pseuds/Bryony
Summary: Mariemaia and Une are having a difficult time of it, but Une thinks she may have found something to help them both.
Kudos: 3





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, this one is going all the way back to 2005 and my teenage years! I remain pretty fond of it though. :)

Mariemaia arrived home expecting the house to be empty, as it usually was when she got home from school. Une led a busy life, after all: running the Preventers was certainly no easy job -- and now she had managed to end up with a child as well. Mariemaia had the uneasy feeling that it had been no less of a shock for Une than it had been for her when the official adoption papers had been signed and the two of them had driven up to Une’s home together for the first time.

It was a normal townhouse, tall and narrow, and decorated in Une’s crisp, clean taste. It was nothing at all like the dim memories she had of living with her _mother_ , and everything she imagined this cold woman to be like herself. Not even Mariemaia’s bedroom was child friendly; it maintained just the same guarded neutrality it had possessed as the guest bedroom. Une had shown her around and then ordered takeout, as she would continue to do most nights, coming home just too exhausted to cook for two.

It was their routine. Mariemaia couldn’t help but feel that even though a year had gone by and there were documents that proved that she and Une were now officially family they both felt that this was nothing more than a temporary arrangement. The only good thing that Mariemaia could find about her situation was that at least Une trusted her enough to be left alone and didn’t patronize or coddle her. But even though Mariemaia wasn’t treated as a child, she wasn’t treated as much of anything else, either. Neither had much to say: Une might ask about her day, but apart from the bland, forced conversations they exchanged neither knew anything about the other; they were still two strangers living in the same house and leading their own lives.

Which was why today came as such a surprise. When Mariemaia put her key in to open the door she discovered it was already unlocked. And Une was inside to greet her, dressed not in her Preventer uniform but in blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail.

Mariemaia made no effort to hide her shock -- Une was never home so early, and she _certainly_ never dressed like that! “What’re you doing here?” she asked, frowning at her guardian.

Une held out a hand toward her. “Come with me,” she said, “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” Mariemaia asked as she hesitantly followed Une upstairs.

The trapdoor to the attic had been pulled down. Une hoisted Mariemaia up the first few rungs of the ladder leading into the dark space and then climbed up herself. The single bulb that lit the room flickered above Mariemaia’s head; Une reached up to tighten it. Then she pointed across to the opposite wall. “Look,” she said.

Something in a large frame lay propped against the wall there.

“What is it?” Mariemaia asked again, as her curiosity propelled her forward to look at the object.

“It’s my family tree,” Une replied proudly. “It was a gift for my thirteenth birthday -- the year I joined the military.” She smiled and said, “Some of these names are from nearly a thousand years ago.”

Mariemaia squinted closely at the richly embossed names in fascination, seeking out Une’s. Eventually the older woman’s fingertips reached past her and brushed lightly against a name near the bottom right of the cloth. “Here’s me.”

Mariemaia read in delight, “Josephine Une Rieder…” She glanced up at her guardian in confusion. “But I thought Une was your given name, because you were your parents’ first child.”

“No, Une was my mother’s maiden name,” she explained. “I took it on when I was seventeen and inherited her title of ‘Lady’ after she died.”

“How did she die?” Mariemaia asked, intrigued. No one, least of all Une, had ever revealed this much of their lives to her before.

“In childbirth. She was too old to be having children, and there were complications. The baby died shortly afterwards as well.” Une frowned, lost in thought for a moment. Mariemaia felt sorry for bringing the subject up, but Une’s face quickly cleared. “But look here,” she said, smoothly kneeling down on the floor next to Mariemaia and pointing to another section of the woven tapestry. “This is my mother’s side of the family -- they’ve been living in France for as far back as we can trace. And my father’s side is this one. He was from one of the old German kingdoms, and my mother moved there to live with him after they were wed.”

Fascinated, Mariemaia traced the lines of lineage, the various splits and changes that occurred in marriages and deaths, some generations ago and some far more recent. Une let her examine the family tree for several minutes longer before drawing her back again.

“This isn’t the one I really wanted you to see,” she said quietly. “I brought you up here because Mr Treize -- your father -- had a family tree made as well. I rediscovered it…after his death.”

That was all Mariemaia heard -- anything else Une might have said afterwards was lost on her. A few hours later, when she thought back on it, she would recognize the muted sorrow in Une’s voice and realize how strange it was that it was more difficult for her guardian to speak of Treize’s death than her own mother’s. But in the moments following Une’s announcement, all that rushed through Mariemaia’s head was a jumble of competing emotions.

Despite her excitement and the rush of anticipation to see her own family history, an irrational terror held Mariemaia rooted to the spot. It was Une’s firm guiding hand against her shoulder that finally caused her to turn around and look.

It was magnificent. It reminded Mariemaia, through its grandeur, of things she had only seen in museum exhibitions. “Oh, Une,” she whispered, her voice too choked for anything louder. Besides, normal tones would disrupt the pristine quality of this moment, which Mariemaia was determined should not be disturbed.

Now, suddenly, nothing could keep her back. She ran across to the other wall of the attic, which Une had cleared of all its former clutter, feeling very small once she had reached it and stood gazing up at her prize. It was huge, stretching from the floor up to the rafters. The hand-written calligraphy was so tiny, the delicate lettering only the size of one of Mariemaia’s fingernails. While Une’s family tree was simply written out, the Khushrenada genealogy was written against the detailed design of a real tree, as gnarled and impressive as the family itself.

Une hung back, letting Mariemaia have the moment to herself. She waited until the child had turned back to her, smiling, to approach. “I remember when Mr Treize first showed this to me, after I had confided in him that learning the family histories of the gentry was an interest of mine. He was always so unselfish like that…your father.”

She started in surprise when she felt Mariemaia’s hand shyly grasp hers. She had become caught up in memories again. Her attic always had that effect on her; that was why she usually avoided coming up here.

“You loved my father very much…didn’t you, Une?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly, the acknowledgement seeming to hang in the air.

There was hesitancy in Mariemaia’s voice, almost as if she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know, when she asked, “Did he love you as well?”

Reassuringly, Une grasped Mariemaia’s fingers more tightly. “There isn’t much room for love in any great man’s life,” she said, “but in the way he could, I do believe he loved me too. And even though he never spoke to me of her, I’m sure he loved your mother, too. Treize was not a man to toy with any woman’s heart.”

“I wish I had been able to know him,” Mariemaia admitted aloud for the first time. “I’m always wondering now, what he would think of me. It… It frightens me, a little.”

Very serious, Une knelt down on the splintery floor to look Mariemaia in the eye. “You don’t ever need to be afraid of that,” she said. “There’s one other detail I want to show you. When I remembered that I had this up here earlier today, I had to come home right away, so that… Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of adding your name.”

Gasping, Mariemaia spun back around to the tree. There it was: Her father’s name at the very center of the last row…and then, connected by a thin black line that was obviously not original to the tree, her own.

“Oh, Une,” she said again, “Oh, Une!”

She flung herself into her guardian’s -- her _mother’s_ \-- arms, and felt them wrap awkwardly but tightly around her shoulders in return. “Thank you,” she sobbed into Une’s neck, and felt her mother’s quiet tears drip into her hair. Things would be different now, so different!

“You are his daughter.”

And, even though she had always known it, for the very first time in her life Mariemaia _felt_ it to be true.


End file.
